


Agents of Flirting

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clothed Sex, Cousy RomCom Challenge, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Inspired By Tumblr, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Seasons 3 Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 16:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13979223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: S3 canon divergence (so no Price or Campbell): Coulson finally catches on to Daisy's flirting.





	Agents of Flirting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [hamsterfactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterfactor/gifts).



> Written for the Cousy RomCom Challenge over on the Johnson and Coulson Tumblr, and inspired by this [incorrect quotes](http://johnsonandcoulson.com/post/170157961160/cousy-incorrect-quotes) post by hamsterfactor.

“Wait. Did you just flirt with me?” Coulson asks, sounding a little disbelieving.

Daisy nods. “Have been for the past year, but thanks for noticing.”

He stares at her – that stupidly intense stare that does things to her, and makes her want to do things to him. “Why?” he asks, looking sceptical.

“Hello, have you seen you?” she asks, smirking the tiniest bit.

He shakes his head at her, his expression going solemn. “Daisy. I’m not good enough for you. You need –”

“Phil. I don’t need you to tell me what I need.”

He flushes, looking chagrined. “I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I didn’t mean to do that. I just – I’m so much older than you, and scarred and maimed, and –”

“Stop.” 

He swallows down whatever else he was going to say, and simply stands waiting, giving her another intense stare, but softer now. His eyes are gorgeous, she thinks, and not for the first time. And his face is so familiar and so dear.

She moves into his personal space and clasps his upper arms, looking at him intently. “I don’t care about this,” she says, and gently slides her hand down his left arm until her fingers are wrapped around the metal band that joins his prosthetic to his stump. Then she reaches over with her other hand and places it over his heart. She can feel his scar – not through his polo shirt, but via his vibrations – it feels different, she assumes because of the GH drug that fixed his heart. “I don’t care about this, either.” 

“Daisy.” His voice is low, almost broken she thinks, and wonders if he’s going to cry. His eyes are certainly damp.

“Listen to me,” she says softly. “You are the kindest, most compassionate and caring man I’ve ever met. You’re not some awful alpha male, you’re a sweet, sensitive guy with a heroic streak a mile wide. You believe in me and value me as a person, not as an asset. You’re cute, sexy, and almost painfully handsome.” That earns her raised eyebrows, and a tiny curl of the lips, but he doesn’t interrupt. He looks intrigued, she notices. “I like everything about you, even your ridiculous hearteyes.”

“I do not have hearteyes,” he says immediately, blushing now.

“Yeah, Phil, you do.” She smirks, then draws his body into her arms. “You’re basically my ideal man. Exactly as you are. Okay?”

“Okay.” He breathes the word against her ear, his left arm wrapped around her torso, and his right hand in her hair, cradling the back of her head – a typical move from him when they hug.

She brushes her lips against the scruff on his jaw. “Now we don’t have to do anything about this if you don’t want to, but I want you to be perfectly clear that you are extremely desirable to me.” She pulls back, holding his shoulders. “Why don’t you sleep on it, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow?”

He nods, then leans in and brushes his lips against her cheek. “Tomorrow.” He steps back, giving her shoulders a brief squeeze, then turns and walks away, and she heaves a huge sigh, then goes back to her desk and the files stacked there. They’re still working out how Project Caterpillars is going to work.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

It’s starting to get late the following evening when someone knocks on the door of her bunk, and she frowns at it, then gets to her feet and opens the door. She can’t help gaping a bit at the sight that meets her eyes: Phil Coulson in a baby blue button down shirt and tight black jeans, carrying a bottle of Scotch in one hand, and two tumblers in the other.

“Yes, can I help you?” she asks, deciding on teasing him because she’s suddenly nervous at the implications of him being here at this time of the night.

He smirks at her. “A little flower told me that you were into me,” he says smoothly, and she rolls her eyes, not only at the return of his Charm School persona, but the ‘little flower’ comment.

She steps back and gestures for him to enter. “Guess you heard right, mister,” she says. “Come on in.”

He steps inside, and she closes the door behind him, then turns towards him, and he lifts the bottle, clearly asking if he can pour for them both.

She smirks. “Thanks. I don’t mind if I do.” She takes the tumblers and holds them as he opens the Scotch, then pours them both a generous measure.

“Cheers.” He clinks his glass against hers and they both take a mouthful, Coulson staring at her in that very intense way of his. She feels nervous in a way, which she hadn’t yesterday – maybe because tonight they’re coming at this cold. He seems to sense her nerves (but then he can be scarily good at reading her, as she knows), and he gestures at the room.

“You haven’t done much decorating.”

She shrugs. “No. Old habits, I guess.”

He nods, knowing she means that she’s never really grown fully used to the idea of having a permanent home. “And you don’t have the same amount of clutter that I do.”

She bumps her shoulder against his. “I like your clutter.”

His expression goes ridiculously soft. “Thanks.” He looks around again. “If you wanted to borrow a couple of pieces to put in here, I wouldn’t mind.”

She stares at him a bit disbelievingly, then she takes his glass from him and puts both on top of the dresser before grabbing him and hugging him. “Thank you,” she says, aware that her voice is all husky with emotion.

“Daisy,” he says, so softly, and she can’t help recalling how hard it’d been for him to get used to using her name, and how, although she’d corrected him every time, she’d never really minded him calling her ‘Skye’ still – it made her feel more connected to her old self, somehow.

“Phil,” she says, then shifts and looks him in the eye, before dropping her eyes to his mouth. He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate gesture that makes her lower body clench – she finds herself wondering how good he is at oral, and betting with herself that he’s brilliant at it.

She leans in and brushes her lips oh-so-lightly over his, and he makes a pleased sort of noise, then kisses her properly. It’s masterful, but without being pushy or domineering – pretty much what she’d expect from Phil Coulson, if she’s honest.

As they kiss she works on getting her hands on his skin, and feels him shudder when she gets the back of his button down untucked from his jeans and draws her fingers across his lower back. It’s a good shudder, she can tell, and she doesn’t hesitate to slide her hand up his spine, dragging her thumbnail across his skin. He moans and shifts, and she can’t help moaning too as she realises he’s growing aroused.

His mouth migrates from hers, down her throat and into her cleavage, and she moans again, cradling the back of his head as he works his mouth down into the top of her shirt – she’s wearing a sleeveless button down, with rather a lot of the buttons already unfastened, and it doesn’t take him long to bring his mouth down to the tops of her breasts. She isn’t aware of him unfastening the rest of the buttons until his tongue curls around her breast, flicking over her already stiff nipple.

“Fuck, Phil,” she whispers as pleasure spikes through her body, straight to her sex.

He hums as he moves his mouth to her other breast, and she feels her sex growing hotter and wetter: she can’t ever remember anyone doing this before, and she sort of regrets it, because it’s incredibly arousing, but at the same time, she’s glad he’s the first because it feels so good, and because she loves him so much.

His mouth leaves her breasts and moves down to her stomach as he kneels on the floor in front of her, and she’s shocked that he appears to be going this route, but at the same time, she’s so excited. He unfastens her jeans while planting hot kisses across her lower ribs and around her belly button, then his mouth is on her sex, hot and wet through the silk of her panties, and she groans, clutching at his head. Then he’s pushing his tongue into her slick heat, and she has to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out in pleasure.

After giving her a blindingly good orgasm, he looks up at her, his mouth wet with her juices, and she shakes her head slightly, then offers him her hands. He takes them and she tugs him to his feet, then says, “We should go to bed.”

“I like your style,” he tells her, smirking smugly, and she groans.

“Impossible man,” she says, and he just grins, letting her lead him across to her bed. She’s not a bit surprised when he pulls a box of condoms from his jeans pocket – that’s exactly the kind of thoughtfulness she’d expect from him. As he finishes undressing her, and then she undresses him, she hesitates to admit that she’s happy, because old habits of thought die hard and she’s always been wary of declaring her happiness since it usually gets taken away shortly afterwards – but she is glad of having this, of having taken this step with Coulson.

She draws him down onto her bed with her, and kisses him, smiling against his mouth at the thought of what’s going to come next.


End file.
